


Dumbledore v Dumbledore

by Abracabadger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Dumbledore v Dumbledore, F/M, Jarndyce v Jarndyce, Knuts to you, Lawyers, Post-Hogwarts, Wow that's quite a comb you have there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 11:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abracabadger/pseuds/Abracabadger
Summary: It's the case that has dogged British law for a century;Dumbledore v Dumbledore. Judges and lawyers have come and gone, but still the case rages on, a bitterly-disputed question of inheritance that has become so convoluted that resolution seems to be impossible. The latest unhappy traveller in this saga is Harry Potter, of Bagnold, Lupin & Black, representing Dumbledore. And then, one day, a new and pretty, red-headed lawyer takes up the cudgels on behalf of Hebblethwaite Associates, representing Dumbledore.Suddenly, the case has got alotmore interesting.Written for the HarryandGinny SubReddit Challenge Extravaganza.Prompt: Harry and Ginny Meet at a BarVery AU





	Dumbledore v Dumbledore

**Author's Note:**

> Written in a day, after a hilarious chat with Not_Steve on the HG Discord, and dedicated to her.

In an almost-forgotten anteroom of the Chancery courts, stuffed nearly to the rafters with mouldering bundles of parchment, Harry Potter sighed, and took a final swig of his now-cold coffee. Checking that his briefcase held the notes so painstakingly assembled over the previous week, he quickly brushed down his robes and straightened his wig, and then sidled into the courtroom for the resumption of his twelve months of personal hell.

He’d been warned, of course, when he received the offer from Bagnold, Lupin & Black, but it seemed an absurd flight of fancy to consider that a junior such as he would ever be entrusted with the monumental case that was the cornerstone of the partnership for a century. First, he’d had the daunting prospect of completing pupillage with his mentor, Mr. Lupin, and so he’d kept his head down and, almost to his surprise, passed handsomely. Having achieved his goal of becoming a fully-fledged barrister at last, he had picked up simple cases at first, will disputes and trust settlements, until that awful, fateful day when every time Mr. Bagnold rose to address the Wizengamot there was a noise like a dreadful groaning of unoiled hinges, and every time he resumed his seat, a deafening, foghorn fart echoed around the Chamber. The following day, Mr. Bagnold had called him into his office with a cold, vindictive gleam in his eye, and handed him the most dreaded legal case in modern British law.

_Dumbledore v Dumbledore_.

_Oh yes, sir, thank you very much, sir, of course I will do my best, sir._ After the painful interview was over, he’d gone back to his little office, put up a silencing charm, and let out a prolonged scream of pure horror.

“Of course he knows it wasn’t you, Harry,” Mr. Lupin had pointed out mildly, the next day. “Bagnold things very highly of you, you know, and it _is _an honour to be involved in such a landmark case.”

“Then why isn’t he giving it to Mr. Black? I think we all know who the malfeasant was in this particular case,” Harry growled sourly.

“Mr. Black is too deeply involved in affairs in the Wizengamot, Harry. Besides, Mr. Bagnold could hardly challenge of of his partners like that, could he?”

‘Affairs’ was right. With his raffish charm, Mr. Black was _very_ popular with the ladies of the Wizengamot – and, especially, their wives, daughters, clerks, functionaries…

“I don’t see him giving it to you, either. Why not you, if it’s such an honour?”

Mr. Lupin smiled. _Wolfishly_. “I told him I’d bite him if he ever lumbered me with it.”

So that had left Harry to try to digest the indigestible, a hundred years of the most pointless, tortuous legal case in recent history; Dumbledore and Dumbledore squabbling over their father’s estate. _Like two bald men fighting over a comb_, was the common opinion in Chambers, but both litigants were almost absurdly hirsute, and the value of the estate meant it was a very, _very_ valuable comb, indeed.

The dispute had been, perhaps, inevitable, given the vast fortune involved. It had initially passed off quietly, but rumblings began to reach legal ears with death of old Dumbledore’s wife, and then erupted, almost from the moment both sons reached their majority. Perhaps the bad feeling could be encapsulated by Dumbledore breaking Dumbledore’s nose at their sister’s funeral. Ever since, their dealings had been via the courts, with each pigheadedly determined to do the other over. Manna from heaven for the lawyers, and both Bagnolds, representing Dumbledore, and Hebblethwaite Associates, acting for Dumbledore, had done their level best to act on their instructors’ orders. The dispute over the opening line of the will, _To Whom It May Concern_, had taken up all of fifty years on its own, trying to establish definitively exactly who it _did _concern – and weed out the various vultures and claimants and counter-suits scenting money in the air.

Every word of every line had been disputed ever since. A distant light of legal hope had dawned with the death of Dumbledore, but that had been dashed on the rocks of his own will, and now there was a second estate and set of bequests to drag the case back down into the mire once more, from whence it was showing no signs of emerging.

It had taken Harry nearly six months with the case files before he felt he had some sort of grip on its intricacies, and then he had been thrown to the courts to fight Bagnold, Lupin & Black’s corner – and their client’s of course. At first, he’d had Quirke to hold his hand through it. The old clerk’s knowledge of the case was probably as good as anyone’s, but Quirke hadn’t been able to hide his relief when he’d reached his retirement a few months later, and quickly moved to a distant corner of the Hebrides. A wise move, Harry thought.

What had been a case of scandal and intrigue at the turn of the last century had quickly become a matter of boredom, then fallen out of the public consciousness until it resurfaced as a matter of common ridicule. _What, that silly old squabble is still going on?_ Even the courts were tired of the matter, and it had been shunted from the main Chancery court to a lesser room, then progressively to more distant court rooms as interest in the case dwindled, until it was simply the presiding judge, the Clerk of the Court, and the two lawyers acting for their clients. By now it had reached such a reviled state that it was reduced to sitting after hours, so that the old arguments did not clog up the modern – and soluble – business of Chancery.

There had been a flicker of interest about eight months ago when the previous presiding judge had been replaced by a newcomer. Judge Granger was known to be a thrusting up-and-comer with a disturbingly incisive mind and an encyclopedic knowledge of case law, but perhaps it was not a co-incidence that a Muggleborn that had been causing disruption on the bench should be saddled with such a case. Harry had briefly considered it a mean-spirited attempt to break the young judge’s will – right up until she sat for the first time. There was no mistaking the gleam of excitement in her eye and keen interest as he and Pritchard jousted yet again over the particular context of the word ‘the’ in the fifth paragraph of the second rider to the eighth codicil…

The latest adjournment was over, a brief respite and retreat to Chambers for a week to regather themselves for another sally. _It pays the bills, I suppose_, Harry thought philosophically. He slid into his chair in the empty courtroom, the tiny gallery behind him empty. After all, who would come and watch this dry old farce play out? _Except that random, red-headed nutter that’s turned up recently_.

He was setting out his papers and briefs and checking his note-taking quill when an unexpected noise caught his attention, and it took a moment to figure out what it was. Heels on the wooden floor. He looked up, then across to his right. A petite woman of about his own age was sliding into the seat on the opposing table. He watched for a moment, caught off-guard, as she quickly set up her own papers, then looked over at him with a polite smile before rising to her feet again and coming over to him.

“Good evening. You must be Potter.”

Her Devonshire accent was faint, but unmistakeably warm and smooth, and, feeling a little flustered, Harry stood up and took her offered hand.

“Harry Potter, of Bagnold, Lupin & Black,” he introduced himself, trying not to notice its softness in his. “And I assume you’re from Hebblethwaites. No Pritchard today?”

“Ginny Weasley. No, old Pritchard has had enough. He’s dumped this one on me and switched off his floo.”

Harry felt a flare of hope. _Oh, so she’s unprepared?_ Her smile, however showed no trace of weakness – and, in fact, it was a very pretty smile, full of confidence, and-

He blinked, and tried to snap himself out of it. _Now’s not the time to get distracted_. “I know that feeling,” he said wryly. “Welcome to the madness.”

She grinned, a challenging, devilish gleam in her eyes. “Madness, you say? Well, you could always concede the case and get it over with.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And spoil a century of fun?”

They were interrupted by the Clerk of the Court heaving his bulk through the door at the back of the room. “If you would come to order?” he mumbled, in a terminally-bored tone.

Harry was almost disappointed when Weasley sashayed gracefully back to her table and took her place. _Oh boy. I have a feeling I’ll need to keep my wits about me with this one_.

Up on the dais, Judge Granger entered and took her seat, her serious mannerisms not hiding an unmistakeable trace of excitement. _Whatever does it for you, I suppose, Your Honour_.

“The matter before the Court is _Dumbledore v Dumbledore_, Judge Granger presiding,” the Clerk sighed. “Who represents the litigant?”

Harry ran through the form that had become second nature to him. “Honourable Members of the Court, my name is Harry Potter, of Outer Temple. I have the honour to argue on behalf of Dumbledore.”

“And who represents the respondent?”

“Honourable Members of the Court, my name is Ginevra Weasley, of Kentigern’s Inn. I have the honour to argue on behalf of Dumbledore.”

_Ginevra? What a pretty name._

But Harry had no time to consider that, as arguments resumed.

* * * * *

There was always a certain amount of testing out a new opponent in court, finding their strengths and weaknesses and planning your approach accordingly, but Harry found that keeping his wits about him proved harder than expected over the next few months. Pritchard had argued with a sort of forlorn, world-weary patience, while the newcomer was tigerish and eager, and her razor-sharp mind had quickly punctured any hopes that she was unprepared on that first, memorable day.

While Harry preferred to sit back in his seat and find a sort of focused Zen whilst in court, tuning out distractions and letting the arguments settle into the front of his mind while his thoughts analysed them at the back, that concentration wobbled at Ginny leaning forward over her table with her slight frame tensed as if to spring out of her seat, and it was quite something to see the flash in those large, expressive brown eyes when she argued the most obscure points of law with bulldog tenacity. Was just the presence of an attractive female really enough to distract him so much? The answer seemed to be yes – and worse, judging by her amused smile on certain occasions, she seemed to know it, too.

They seldom had much time to chat around their court sessions, but they would always exchange a few words after the court rose, almost inevitably ending with a cheerful “I’ll get you next time, Potter!” and a smile. He’d never carried animosity for any of the opposing lawyers. Whatever may have happened in the courtroom was never personal, he knew, it was just law. They were fellow-travellers, fighting the same fights as he was, even if the sides they were on differed. This was different, however. If he was honest with himself, the regular sparring with Weasley had become the highlight of his week.

* * * * *

When it came, the bombshell was completely unexpected.

“-the question returns once again to the matter of the ‘natural children’ clause, in which case my learned colleague’s argument does not hold.”

They had been going around this for hours. Since about 1974, if Harry was any judge – _ho ho, I’m just a lawyer. Knob_. The look on Ginny’s face when she rose to abut, however, told him that she thought she had something up her sleeve. _Let’s see._

“If I may, Your Honour, I’d like to direct your attention to the case of _R. v Dumbledore 1982_. It was found that Dumbledore had been practising inappropriate charms on a goat.”

Judge Granger’s eyebrows rose nearly into the bushy, brown hair that constantly threatened to spill out from under her wig. “However inappropriate those charms may have been, Miss Weasley, I doubt that they resulted in _natural _children, which the relevant statue confirms.”

A fierce grin lit up Ginny’s delicate features. “However evidence was presented and accepted that the goat in question later gave birth to a number of kids, which Dumbledore then proceeded to assume the care of.”

“I am not seeing the relevance here, Miss Weasley.”

“I refer to the further case of _R. v Hagrid 1928_, Your Honour.”

_Ah, that. Nice try, Ginny, but we’ve been here before. I’m surprised you don’t know that one._

Harry rose to redirect. “If I may, Your Honour, in that case it was found Hagrid aided, but scarcely abetted. Thus the charge of Insolvency fails, it is clear, by granting the plea 'never indebted'.”

Judge Granger turned an icy glare on him. “Noted, Mr. Potter, however please keep your flights of whimsy to yourself in future.”

He risked a glance to his right, and saw Ginny watching him with her eyebrows raised, an amused grin on her lips, but before they could resume, the side door opened and a court functionary darted in to rouse the Clerk of the Court from his near-torpor, whispering frantically in his ear. Harry and Ginny exchanged a look, but before Ginny could resume, the Clerk heaved his massive bulk out of his seat and hurried to Judge Granger’s side. She listened to them, her eyebrows rising with every word, and a vehement whispered conversation ensured. Harry tried not to fidget at this unexpected turn of events, and he could see that Ginny was every bit as confused as he was.

Finally, the functionary hurried out and the Clerk of the Court slumped back into his seat. Harry was shocked to see tears running down his flabby face, while Judge Granger sat forward and shuffled her notes.

“The plaintiff moves to dismiss.”

Silence.

The echoes of the brief sentence had long since died away before Harry could stammer, “W-what? _What?_”

The judge looked almost as stunned as he felt. “The case will be dismissed, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore wishes to settle.”

“But… but… _what_? Why? _Why now_, after...”

Words failed him. Nearly a hundred years of courtroom wrangling, and just like that, in mid-flow… it was over? _Dumbledore wishes… _to settle?!

“Indeed,” Judge Granger said faintly. Rousing herself, she flicked back through her notes. “The Dumbledore estate amounted to 49,342,198 galleons, fourteen sickles, and twenty-four knuts. After a review of the legal costs accrued during this case, Dumbledore now wishes to settle. I have his instruction here, Mr. Potter.”

The Clerk sent a folded sheet of paper fluttering down to settle on the desk in front of him. Harry didn’t move. _This is all some sort of dream, isn’t it? I’ve finally gone mad, and I’m imagining it’s over_. Pulling himself together, he reached for the sheet with trembling fingers and unfolded it.

He gazed at its contents in utter disbelief. He could feel the weight of the eyes on him, the weight of _legal history _on him. This case would surely echo through time, and it would be _his _name associated with the brief.

“Harry?”

It was Ginny’s voice that roused him. He folded the sheet and slid it into his briefcase, then rose on wobbling legs and almost stumbled up to the Clerk’s desk. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he found his quarry, then held it up for them all to see.

The click as he placed a single, bronze knut on the Clerk’s desk echoed in the absolute silence.

“Dumbledore withdraws. The case is hereby settled in full, absent legal fees of 49,342,198 galleons, fourteen sickles, and… and twenty-_three_ knuts.”

Feeling light-headed, he returned to his table. His workplace. His now-_former _place of work.

“The court acknowledges receipt. Case dismissed.”

“All rise!”

Judge Granger hurried out almost at a run, leaving Harry to slump back into his seat and put his head in his hands.

A hand on his back startled him out of his disbelieving stupor, and his head jerked up. It was Ginny.

“Are you all right?”

The fierce, challenging spark he was used to seeing in those pretty brown eyes was gone. Instead they were soft and concerned, drawing him in. It took an act of will to force his eyes away and try to pull himself together. He took a deep breath, and began to gather the wreckage of his brief together, shoving it blindly into his case.

“Fine. Thank you, Ginny, I’ll be fine.”

He heard a quiet sigh, and Ginny’s heels clicked back to her own table. Snapping his briefcase shut, he rose to his feet and looked around them. The courtroom was empty. The Judge and Clerk were long gone, and there were no other witnesses to history. _It’s over. Does anyone know? Does anyone _care,_ other than the four of us? _He felt a swoop of trepidation in his stomach_. What is old Bagnold going to say? Between us, we’ve killed the goose that laid the golden egg._

Shaking his head once more, he followed his former adversary to her table. She was looking around the courtroom much as he had done moments earlier, her briefcase closed on the table in front of her.

“Er… so. Do you know, I’m wondering why I bothered to gather all this up. I suppose it can all go on the fire, now. I’ve got an entire _room_ full of the stuff just through there, too.”

She snapped out of her reverie and smiled at him. “Me, too, and I’m pretty sure there’s whole generations of mice nesting in there somewhere.”

“Mine, too. By Merlin, what on earth do we do now?”

Her smile became that familiar, vivacious grin, again. “Get roaring drunk and have a massive bonfire in the street, I reckon.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, “I think I really am going to need a drink after all this.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard in ages. Fancy a beer, Potter?”

“After that, make it several.”

They signed out of Chancery and then, after a brief toilet stop – and a few moments for Harry to shrink his robes and jam them into his briefcase, and then try to make his hair lie in any sort of sensible order after an evening stuck under his wig – they met up again in the atrium. It was almost a shock to see Weasley – to see _Ginny_ – without her robes and wig. She was dressed in an understated chalk-stripe jacket and skirt, and her white blouse had a ruffled front, but what was most noticeable was the red-gold hair that had occasionally peeked out from under her wig now tumbled in curly waves down around her shoulders.

_By Merlin… _

She arched a finely-shaped eyebrow. “I suppose you’re going to drag me off to Temple Bar, Potter?”

He had to grin at her familiar, challenging tone. “I suppose you’re going to drag me off to Kentigern’s Tavern, Weasley?”

She laughed, and hooked her arm through his. “Not bloody likely! Come on, I know a place.”

He had to swallow a sudden burst of nerves at her closeness, and then there was the sudden feeling of apparition. Feeling completely disoriented, he followed her out of the little space behind a church and onto a busy street, trying not to regret her letting him go.

“Where are we? And where are we going?”

“Suspicious, aren’t we, Mr. Potter?” she said lightly. “It’s not far.”

‘Not far’ was a short distance along the street and into a Muggle bar. It was a step up from the usual drinking pit, with clusters of comfortable chairs around little tables and a long, polished bar. Even better, there was no blaring music, just the comfortable murmur of patron’s voices and occasional laughter. _This is entirely and dangerously my thing_.

Ginny found a spot at the bar, dropping her briefcase at her feet and climbing onto one of the stools.

“Pint of Guinness, and a G&T with a twist of lime, please. What about you, Harry?”

_Both?!_ Startled, Harry, settled for, “A pint of Guinness and a double Jameson’s, please.”

He put his hand in his pocket for his wallet, but Ginny stopped him. “It’s all right, this one is on me.” She giggled, “You’ve had to bankrupt yourself with that settlement today, after all.”

He had to grin. “And that was my last knut until payday. I was counting on it tiding me over until the end of the month.”

Harry had assumed that the gin and tonic was to tide her over until the Guinness settled, so he was a little surprised to find that they simply talked while they waited, a rather giddy feeling of relief making him more voluble than usual. When their drinks finally arrived, Ginny held up her pint and met his eyes, that challenging look in her eyes again.

“To Dumbledore and Dumbledore, and the most bone-headedly stubborn, unnecessary, _pointless_ case in modern history!”

They clinked their classes, and while he took a deep, satisfying gulp, she simply kept going, downing the whole lot in one. Gobsmacked, he watched her put her glass back on the bar and look at him with a raised eyebrow.

He shook his head, and dumped his whisky into his pint. “Cheers.”

Her smile when he set his empty glass down next to hers grew wider, her eyes bursting with mirth and _life_.

“I’ll let you get this round, Harry.”

The barman gave them both a dubious look, but went off to the taps once more, and when he returned, they took their drinks off to a quiet corner and one of the little tables. Perhaps the alcohol helped, but it wasn’t long before they were back to laughing at the sheer absurdities of _Dumbledore v Dumbledore_.

“-about the only thing that kept me sane in the last twelve months was that big, red-headed bloke that used to come in and stand at the back occasionally and heckle Judge Granger,” Harry was saying.

Ginny let out another peal of laughter, “Oh Merlin, that’s my brother!”

“Your _brother?!_”

“Yeah, he’s married to Hermione. Judge Granger,” she clarified at his look. “When he’s in town and bored, which is about every five minutes, he comes along to wind her up. It’s absolutely hilarious! You know that look she gets like she’s actually inflating with indignation, right before she has him slung out? When it’s Ron winding her up like that, she’s also as turned on as hell.”

“Yeah, now _there’s _a detail I didn’t need to know!” he said, with a shudder.

“Oh, come on, Harry, you must have noticed!”

“Err… no, actually.” _I was more interested in my opposite number instead of the judge_. He tried to distract himself from that distressingly honest thought with another swig of beer. It was probably a bad idea, but everything was pleasantly fuzzy-edged already.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he found himself saying. “The case was such a behemoth that once I got dragged into it, I didn’t think I was going to find a way out of it. I mean, I was praying for Bagnold, Lupin & Black to take on another junior, just in the hope that they’d make some colossal blunder like I was accused of and I could hand the case over to them, instead.”

“What blunder was this?” she asked, her eyes sharpening with intrigue. When he told her about Bagnold’s unfortunately-noisy stint in front of the Wizengamot, she laughed so hard she gave herself the stitch.

“If Mr. Black really pulled that off, my brothers would love to meet him!”

Harry felt a trickle of discomfort run down his spine. “Your brothers? You mean Ron?”

“No, not him, my twin brothers. They live for that sort of thing!”

“Just how many brothers do you have, Ginny?”

“Six, but-”

“_Six?!_”

“What’s the matter, Mr. Potter, feeling intimidated?”

_Just a bit_. “Anyway, how did you get roped into this?”

She shrugged carelessly, “Agnes Hebblethwaite is a complete cow, that’s how. When Pritchard jacked it in, she thought she could use it to break me down and make me leave. Well, do you see me leaving?”

“I can’t see you ever backing down from a challenge, Ginny,” he found himself saying, then blanched. _OK, Potter, that’s enough booze before you make a complete tit of yourself_.

She blinked in surprise. “Ha! Well, I’ve been told that often enough, I suppose,” she said, although her voice lacked some of its usual conviction. “Well, on to the next one, I suppose. Perhaps we’ll end up facing off again, sometime.”

“Perhaps we will. The case itself may have been deathly-dull, but I did rather enjoy those last few months,” he said impulsively. Six _brothers, Harry, for the love of God…!_

Ginny stilled, looking down into her G&T with her lip caught under one incisor. “I did, too,” she admitted softly. There was a rather awkward silence before she took a deep breath and sat forward, placing one hand on the little table between them, “Maybe we shouldn’t just wait for our names to come up together on the rolls, Harry.”

Tentatively, he put his hand on hers. “You prefer not to wait for the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?”

Again, that same, surprised blink. “Shakespeare, Harry? And I noticed the Lewis Carroll earlier, too. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” She turned her hand over and grasped his firmly, before looking up and meeting his eyes. “And no, slings and arrows can get stuffed. I’ve suffered them enough over the years to know that when I find something worthwhile, then I need to hang on it.”

He let out a shaky breath. “How do you know if I’m worthwhile?” he asked, his voice dry and rather hoarse.

That grin and look of challenge that he was coming to treasure was back in her eyes.

“I don’t. But I’ve seen enough to know that I’m going to _love_ finding out.”

**Author's Note:**

> 'Harry and Ginny meet at a bar', says the prompt. I doubt they were expecting _this_ sort of bar, but there you go.  
Dangerously silly, so long as you don't take it remotely seriously.  
With apologies to actual lawyers everywhere, who will no doubt find this funny for the wrong reasons.


End file.
